


Increase in evil annually due to inconvenience, a new approach to tainting the mortal soul: A presentation by A.J. Crowley

by doomed_spectacles



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is Good at Being a Demon (Good Omens), Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Kissing, M/M, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Period Typical Attitudes, Post-Canon, Protective Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 09:50:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20405758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doomed_spectacles/pseuds/doomed_spectacles
Summary: Anathema needs help finding a town that doesn't want to be found. Turns out, Crowley may have had something to do with it.Or:Crowley curses an entire town for reasons apparent only to himself. Hell doesn't give him the recognition he deserves but, 350 years later, he does manage to inconvenience one Anathema Device.





	Increase in evil annually due to inconvenience, a new approach to tainting the mortal soul: A presentation by A.J. Crowley

**Author's Note:**

> I really like long titles. Sorry, it's just a thing. And really only for Good Omens. I mean, "Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter" is also long.
> 
> Crowley running around causing mischief (especially on Aziraphale's behalf) will never not amuse me.

"Yeah, this is the bookshop, what do you want." It was less a telephone greeting than a low growl.

"Hello, yes, umm is this A.Z. Fell & Company?"

"Yep."

"I'm looking for a book?"

"Well obviously. What book? He's got tons of them here."

"He? Oh, is the owner busy? I can call back..."

"Yeah he's trying to get rid of a customer. It's pretty hilarious. Anyway who are you and what book do you want?"

"Oh yes, my name is Anathema Device and I believe he might remember me as a descendant of ..."

"Book girl! Right. You hit my car with your bicycle before the world deigned not to end. What book?"

"You! But it was you that-" Anathema sighed. "Well, anyway, it's called _A Demographic History of Unfortunate Persons in Hamfield-en-Rice circa 1685_. I'm working on a ... project and I can't find anything in the libraries or university systems. I need a map of the area from before 1700 because the ones after it all reference one made by the same person and seem to be unreliable. The only other place I could think of that might have a book that old was-"

"Right. Don't care - hang on." There was a click as Crowley set down the phone. Anathema twirled her finger around her phone cord as she heard muttering and what sounded like books carelessly thumping to the ground in the background, followed by distressed murmuring. After a few minutes, the demon returned to the line. "No _Unfortunate Persons_, afraid. Looked everywhere I could think, though Someone-only-knows what filing system this is. I had the misfortune of knowing Dewey, and it ain't his."

"Oh, well, that's okay." She sounded disappointed, because she was.

"I have got _A Listing of Suspicious Events from the Years 1670 to 1693 Rural England Edition_, if that suits your fancy," Crowley said.

"Oh! Yes! That might do? Can you hold it for me? I'll be in London next week and I can pick it up."

"Yep." The line went silent. Apparently demons didn't bother with goodbyes. That suited Anathema just fine. 

She nodded, pleased with herself, and went to find Newt. He was in the backyard hopelessly tangled in a garden hose. He agreed to drive her to London the following Thursday after an explanation and a quick kiss. She suspected he didn't care one whiff about the person she'd been hired to find, the town that didn't seem to ever appear in the same place on a map, or even the strange angel/demon pair they hadn't expected to encounter again, so long as she helped him untangle himself from the troublesome hose. They spent the remainder of the evening in their garden, admiring the beautiful flowers and vines that seemed to grow despite Newt's serious lack of plant knowledge and most definitely not due to any influence on the part of one semi-retired occultist-turned-genealogist. 

\---

Anathema let out a surprised "Oh!" as soon as the car crossed the invisible line generally accepted as the boundary marking Soho. 

Newt glanced at her and returned his eyes to the road, a crease worrying his forehead. "What is it?"

"I can feel something." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "It's a presence! It's like peace and comfort and ... Oh it's all over the place, this entire area."

Newt nodded and dodged a teen weaving through traffic on a motorized scooter. "Wait, how do you mean, exactly?" 

Anathema cranked the creaky window handle down and inhaled. She smiled and pushed her glasses into place. "I think we're in the right place. I just got this overwhelming feeling of ... It's like when you curl up on the couch with a blanket and a cocoa on a rainy night. Or a hug from your favorite person."

"Sounds nice. GPS should've said 'turn right when you feel the pleasant aura of a celestial being.'"

"I think those directions would only work for witches." She smiled fondly at the silly man driving the silly car. "Occultists, that is."

"There's no app for that, then? GPS for witches?" Newt smiled back at Anathema, happy to be transporting his favorite witch in his sometimes-trusty car, no matter the destination.

"Oh this must be it! Pull over here."

Newt pulled in front of a sedan and received an angry honk in response. "Did the aura get stronger?"

"No silly, there's the sign: A.Z. Fell & Company." 

\---

The handwritten sign on the door read "Perhaps we're open, please knock to find out" in an intricate, delicate script. Newt doubted anyone under the age of 35 would be able to read it without trying to look up the letters on a mobile phone app. He peered through the window but couldn't see much. He shrugged and knocked but there was no answer.

Anathema retrieved a folio from her large knapsack and adjusted her glasses. She held up a white business card with gold foil lettering and squinted at it.

"That's what it says: _A.Z. Fell & Company, SoHo. Usually open Thursdays, sometimes Tuesdays, call for appointment._" She turned the card over. "There's no phone number on the card, though. Good thing he put it in my phone somehow. I didn't see on the map."

Newt put his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. "Maybe after the ... well, the thing that happened in Tadfield ... they went back to wherever they came from?"

Anathema shook her head. "No, I don't think so. I spoke to the demon and it sounded like they were both here. Mr. Aziraphale gave me this card and told me specifically to let him know if I ever needed anything. Or to come for tea."

She concentrated, closing her eyes. "I can feel two auras inside, actually. They're ... battling? I can't tell exactly but it's as if two completely opposing spiritual forces are coming together and cancelling each other out. It would be harmonious if it weren't so chaotic." 

Newt pushed open the door. "Let's go and have a look then, shall we?" 

The pair stepped inside and paused so their eyes could adjust to the warm but dim lamplight. Piles of books, bric a brac, and soft rugs dampened the street noise but from the recesses of the bookshop they could hear muffled sounds and movement. Anathema and Newt looked at each other as they heard a glass shattering on the floor, followed by muffled cursing.

Newt cleared his throat and loudly said, "Hello?"

A voice called out from the backroom. "Oh dear! We're closed! Or at least I believe we're closed! What day is it, exactly?"

Aziraphale emerged from the recesses of the bookshop, out of breath, face flushed. He straightened his bowtie and smoothed his waistcoat. "Oh Anathema, is that you? And young Newt!" He wasn't wearing his jacket. He looked around for it for a moment before deciding to leave it where it was, tossed across the room on a pile of books. "To what do we owe the pleasure?" he asked.

"Oh- I spoke with- well, I was looking for a book. A person, I mean, in a town that I'm having problems finding." Anathema hesitated, then stepped forward to show Aziraphale her files. "I called earlier and he said he'd hold a book for me. _A Listing of Suspicious Events_-"

"-_from the Years 1670 to 1693 Rural England Edition!_ Yes!" Aziraphale exclaimed, excited. "I was wondering why that one had been left out, and now I know it was for you. Please have a seat, my dear." He gestured towards a table that Anathema wasn't sure had been behind her a few moments ago. She sat down and motioned for Newt to sit beside her.

"Is that the book girl I hear?" Crowley voice was a drawl as he practically oozed out of the backroom. He leaned an elbow against one of the columns that didn't actually support the bookshop's weight but gave it an antique feel and put the other hand on his hip. He wasn't wearing a jacket. Small bruises peeked out from under his sheer shirt collar. His front buttons were completely undone, baring his chest down to his navel and a fluff of chest hair. The snake-shaped buckle on his belt was undone, both sides hanging from his belt loops, and the top button of his jeans was on the verge.

Newt immediately found somewhere else to look. Anathema's mouth opened and her eyebrows shot up but she didn't look away. Newt cleared his throat.

"Crowley," Aziraphale said, his eyebrows arched.

The demon looked down at the state of his clothes, then back at Aziraphale. He winked. Then he snapped his fingers and his shirt found itself buttoned properly, leaving only one undone instead of all of them. He shrugged and sauntered into the room. "You got that book, then? The one for your project?"

Anathema said, "No, well he was just getting it-" She noticed the book in front of her on the table. "There it is."

Aziraphale smiled and sat down. He clasped his hands on the table and looked at the couple on the other side of the table expectantly. Crowley pulled out a chair and arranged himself on it in a way that stretches the definition of the word "sitting."

Anathema pulled out a notebook full of handwritten pages and an old map from her folio. "I've been taking jobs ever since-" She glanced at the beings across from her. "-the _events _ which happened and I'm sure I don't need to remind everyone of, even if I could clearly remember them." Neither the angel nor demon's face had changed. She continued, "I've decided to strike out on my own and use my family's history of, well, family history, to benefit certain clients."

"Oh?" Aziraphale asked, clearly with no idea what she was talking about but pleased to be having the conversation. Crowley folded his arms, starting to look bored.

Anathema pushed her glasses up on her nose. She said, "I find people. Or rather, I find records of people. Family histories, but of families that are somewhat ... unusual." She paused. "Occult, in some way, usually in terms of parentage."

"And people pay you for this?" Crowley sounded skeptical.

She nodded. 

"Well, good on you, then," he said. "What's it got to do with rural England, 1693?"

She spread out the old map and pointed to a region near Sheffield. "This town, see? My client is looking for someone in a family from this small village called Hamfield-en-Rice dating back to the early 1600s but I can't seem to find out where it is."

Aziraphale frowned. "Well it's right there, isn't it? Under your finger."

Anathema sighed. "You might think so. But when I look at modern maps, it's in a completely different location. Rand McNally shows it here." She pointed to a location several inches away, across several squiggly map lines noting rivers. Anathema put her phone on the table and unlocked it. "And you see, when I pull up the map on Google-"

"That's the electronic mapping program humans rely on instead of their brains, these days," Crowley explained to Aziraphale, whose face was a happy blank.

"Yes, when I pull it up on Google-"

"I like Bing," Newt said.

"Yes, honey but what I was saying is-"

"What's Bing?" Aziraphale asked. "These new words are quite silly, I must say, given their high-tech meanings."

"Will everyone please shut up!" Anathema cleared her throat and tried to look as stern as she could while aware she was scolding an angel, a demon, and Newt, her source of transportation. "Thank you. You see when I look at the electronic map, the village is here, west of this river." She pointed to the little red flag on the phone screen. "And both this brand new map and this old one from the book has it totally different locations."

"Dear me, that is strange. But having known quite a few cartographers in my day, I can't say I'm surprised to see inconsistencies. They rather given to drink, I'm afraid." Aziraphale tutted and shook his head, as if there wasn't an open bottle of Chateau Margaux on the table in his backroom at half past eleven.

"When I called the town's visitor bureau, the lady was downright rude," Anathema said. 

Newt nodded in agreement. "And the website directions never seem to load. The page gets stuck," he said, "although that might have more to do with me than the internet, I suppose."

Crowley leaned forward, suddenly interested. He lifted his sunglasses and squinted at the map.

"I'm sure the place I'm looking for is here but it's like it doesn't want to be found," Anathema said.

The bookshop was silent. Then Crowley made a noise that was a little like the noise a cat would make after it caught a mouse and felt a very small bit of remorse about it. Cats don't feel remorse, so they don't make this sort of noise, but it's the noise they would make, if they did. 

"Ohhh, yeah that may have been mine. My bad."

Four human eyes and two celestial ones turned on Crowley. 

"Crowley?" Aziraphale asked.

Crowley scrunched up his face. "Well, I may have ... sortof ... cursed this town. A bit. Must've been right around 1650 or so? I took a nap in 1666, dreadful year to be awake in, so must've been before that."

"A bit?" Anathema sounded skeptical.

Crowley gestured wildly at nothing in particular. "Yeah, well you know, the town never really appears on maps right and no one can easily give directions to it when asked." Seeing nothing but confused faces, he continued, "GPS doesn't work, that sort of thing."

"You cursed an entire village? Why?" Newt asked.

Crowley threw his hands up in exaggerated despair and pointed to himself. "Demon! Remember? Literally my job for centuries to do stuff like this."

"Wait! I remember this place." Aziraphale scrunched his eyebrows together and peered at the map.

"Yes, yes I was here too! Earlier, though. Let me see..." He got up and went to the back of the shop. Anathema and Newt looked at each other, then at Crowley, who had crossed his arms and suddenly found the ceiling worthy of inspection.

Aziraphale returned with a tin of biscuits and a piece of parchment. He rolled the paper out on the table carefully. It was a map of the area, predating _A Listing of Suspicious Events from the Years 1670 to 1693 Rural England Edition_ by approximately a century. He pointed to a tiny dot on the map, marked "Hamfield-on-Rice" in ornate, tiny script. It was in an entirely different location than any of the more recent maps. "There it is, you see."

Anathema said, "I don't understand. You have a totally different map of this area and you remember it?"

Aziraphale looked thoughtful. "Yes, I believe I visited this place. Around 1623 or so." He hesitated. "I was there to inspire a young man to the arts. He was a farmer by trade, and his family was terribly set against any sort of education for him. I was to ensure he continued making beautiful works that would inspire religious conviction in the township and generally receive good fortune in his endeavors." He folded his hands on the table and smiled.

"That's the sort of thing angels do? Inspire farmers to become artists?" Newt asked.

"Sometimes, yes," Aziraphale said. "However, this town was a bit of a ... challenge for me."

"Why?"

Aziraphale looked thoughtful. "The young man was quite talented. His family found a few sketches he'd done of me, and- I'm afraid they, well, formed an entirely unfounded opinion of my relationship with the young man based on that and my sophisticated manner of dress." Aziraphale cleared his throat. He glanced at Crowley, who was giving him a withering look. "I have standards," he said.

Newt looked confused.

"They claimed I seduced him, called me a pansy, and ran me out of town, dear," the angel clarified.

"Oh." 

"That's awful," Anathema said. "To treat you that way, just because of ..." She glanced at Crowley, whose expression was inscrutable behind his dark glasses. "... assumptions about who you are."

"Human history is not generally kind, book girl."

"It was a long time ago. I very much like to think that humans have improved in that regard." Aziraphale smiled, not at all troubled by the memory. His eyes twinkled. "And do you know what? Several months later in London, I met the young man I'd been assigned to bless with good fortune."

He took a bite of biscuit, pausing for dramatic effect. Four human eyes and two snake eyes watched him nibble.

"He was working as a painter's assistant and appeared to be, umm, well, getting on _extremely_ well with his employer, shall we say. His good fortune must've been getting out of that dreadful town." He giggled and smiled, pleased.

"Well that's good, I suppose. It all worked out," Newt said, taking a biscuit for himself. "Except for the rest of the people in the town, I mean."

"So let me get this straight," Anathema said archly. She turned to Aziraphale. "_You_ visited this little town to spread goodness but they were awful people and turned you out."

Aziraphale nodded.

"And a few years later, _you_-" She pointed at Crowley. "You visited the same town and cursed it never to appear correctly on a map, carrying that curse forward in time even till today's GPS technology."

"Yep," Crowley said, popping the "p" sound obscenely.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale looked at the demon, his eyes shining.

Crowley looked anywhere but at the three of them. He muttered, "I'm sure it's a coincidence."

Aziraphale smiled at him.

"I still don't understand, why the thing with the maps? Why not just turn everyone into frogs or something?" Newt asked.

"There's no finesse in that! They had the same reaction Downstairs, no creativity the lot of them, let me tell you." Crowley pointed to the map emphatically. "Look, shipments to this town have been late since the seventeen century. People visiting have missed their engagements due to incorrect directions for hundreds of years. When the post came to the area, theirs was late and has been ever since. People living there have had to repeat directions over and over and over, all their lives."

Anathema, Newt, and Aziraphale stared blankly at the gesturing demon.

Finally, he snarled, "do you think _anyone_ in this town gets _free two-day shipping_?" 

"Ohhhh," Newt said, "that makes sense." The humans nodded in understanding.

"Due in part to all the headaches they endure, this town has consistently over-performed the surrounding area in the number of souls converted to the dark lord annually by 13%! That's how you achieve long-term success, is all I'm saying." Crowley had clearly made this pitch before.

Now Aziraphale looked impressed and a bit troubled.

Crowley leaned back, folding his arms behind his head, looking extremely pleased with himself. 

Anathema sighed and shook her head. "So, how do we find this cursed town full of doomed people? Assuming we still want to."

Aziraphale handed her the map he'd produced from somewhere deep the recesses of his bookshop. "Here, use this one. It predates Crowley's ... _demonic_ involvement and should therefore be somewhat more accurate." He glanced lovingly at the scowling redhead at his side.

"Are you sure? This is so old..." Anathema protested.

"Of course, my dear. You have more use for this old thing than I do."

"Thank you," she said sincerely.

Aziraphale beamed back at her. "Happy to help and so lovely to see you both."

\---

The witch-turned-people finder and her driver returned to the car. Newt opened the driver's side door, then shut it.

"I forgot my scarf inside, just be a minute."

He crossed the street, heading back towards the bookshop. As he was about to open the door, he spied Crowley through the window. The demon was still seated at the table as he'd been, but he now had an angel on his lap and his glasses had fallen to the floor. Said angel had one arm wrapped tightly around Crowley's neck and the other around his waist. He was pressing gentle kisses down Crowley's cheek towards his jawline. Crowley lifted his hand from Aziraphale's thigh and waved towards Newt at the window. All the bookshop's shutters closed at once and the lock clicked. A second later the sign flipped to "Closed."

Newt returned to the car. Anathema looked at him quizzically.

"I'll buy a new scarf."

**Author's Note:**

> [@doomed-spectacles on Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/doomed-spectacles) as well. Please feel free to say hi.


End file.
